


A Kiss At Midnight

by LyssGreen



Series: New Year's Eve [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Fluff, New Year's Kiss, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 08:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9114976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyssGreen/pseuds/LyssGreen
Summary: After a bad day at work, and honestly a pretty bad week in general, Greg decides to get drunk on New Year's Eve. Before he manages to get completely blind drunk as intended none other than Mycroft Holmes shows up out of the blue. Perhaps Greg will have someone to kiss at midnight after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note to say thanks to ArianeDevere on live journal for full transcripts of Sherlock episodes which I used as a reference while writing this. http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/  
> This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own, apologies for the mistakes that I will inevitably have missed.

“And exactly how many times _did_ he fall out the window?”

Greg Lestrade tried very hard to repress a sigh as he asked the question. He knew fine well what Sherlock had done, and he also knew that nothing that Sherlock came up as an answer with would be anything like the truth, or even be any use to him. It had already been dark out and he had been just about to leave Scotland Yard for the night when Sherlock had called asking for the ‘least irritating officer’ that Lestrade had. He wasn’t even meant to be working New Years Eve! He’d just had enough with sitting at home and too many piles of paperwork on his desk that he still had to do. There were times where Greg cursed the day that he ever met Sherlock, and being called late at night to a crime scene where it was obvious that Sherlock himself has broken some law or another and thrown the poor sod, who was now on his way to hospital, out the window, that was one of those times. And his already foul mood certainly wasn’t improving.

“It’s all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count.” His voice dripping with a form of sarcasm that came so naturally to the man. Greg sighed and walked away. He was cold, he was tired, it was late and there was no way that he would get back to sleep now. 

“Sherlock bloody Holmes.” He cursed and walked over to one of his officers who was standing on the side lines, giving a brief set of orders to tidy up the situation, take the car back to New Scotland Yard, leave the necessary paperwork on the DI’s desk to get later and make an attempt not to call him in till morning, “Even DI’s need sleep,” he had murmured as he left the young officer looking slightly bewildered. While it was true that even Detective Inspectors needed sleep it wasn’t towards his flat that he was walking. Instead, it was to his favourite pub. What’s better than drinking enough alcohol to forget that you even have problems in the first place, other than the obvious problem of being blind drunk and not entirely sure how to find your way home, but that’s an issue to worry about after the drinking. Or in the morning when you wake up somewhere you don’t know, or next to some _one_ you don’t know. That would also be a suitable time to worry, but still a time _after_ the drinks. It was the new year after all. Almost.

Besides, anything and everything beats the alternative; going home to an empty flat.

He was glad to be rid of her really. Things hadn’t really been right for over a year -  no matter what he had told Sherlock on Christmas Eve a few nights ago. But just because he was glad he didn’t have to go home from work, a place of raised voices and hostility at the best of times, to a flat with an atmosphere that was no different didn’t mean he enjoyed the horrible silence that Caroline had left behind in its place. Going to the ‘Sleekit Tod Pub’ really was the best choice.

His footfalls sounded heavily on the wooden floor of the bar as he stomped in, his bout of internal self-loathing and –reflection on the walk over hadn’t changed the fact that he was still mad at Sherlock.

“Aw’right, Greg?” The strong Scottish accent of Sean from behind the bar made Greg look up and come _this_ close to smiling as he sat down in front of the man. Sean owned the Sleekit Tod and as far as Greg was concerned was a pretty alright looking bloke, tall and muscled with broad shoulders, light hair and pale skin that had a very light dusting of freckles. Before he wore a ring on his finger, Greg may have considered it. He ran his thumb over the wedding band absently as he ordered a pint, attempting to hide the sour mood he was in but from the look Sean gave him it was pretty clear he had failed that miserably.

 _You know you could_ , his mind added _ever so helpfully_ as he looked down blankly at the gold ring on his left hand _, it’s not like this piece of shiny garbage means anything any more. And he does have lovely freckles, and swings that way and-_

Sean set the pint in front of Greg with his left hand, the engagement ring looking bright in the half light of the pub.

 _-Yes, and is engaged to a handsome man of his own, one much closer to his age than you are! Now stop this!,_ Greg scolded his own mind, that had seemingly lost all sense in its old age.

“Seriously, mate, are you aw’right? You looked like you were fuming when you came in and now yer awa’ wi’ the fairies.”

“Fine, just a long day. That’s just how it is for us coppers though.” Greg answered a little wearily before making light work of his drink.

“Another?”

“Don’t judge me but I have a feeling this won’t be the last, or even the second last.” Greg smiled at the man, a touch of his humour beginning to come back for the first time in a few days, “But you're a scot, who would you be to judge drinking habits.”

Sean laughed heartily, “It’s a good job we know eachother well.”

 

True to his word Greg easily downed another three pints, rather enjoying the beer goggles it supplied him with and the escape from his reality. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket a few times but refused to answer it - if it was work he was too drunk to go in anyway. Even if that wasn’t the most professional outlook it was a truthful one, honestly he probably shouldn’t have been drinking anyway. No wait, he wasn’t down as working was he? That had been a choice. So he was okay drinking. Probably. Oh well. He ordered another drink and turned his attention to the TV in the corner of the pub that was showing the coverage of the turning of the new year, thankful that the subtitles had been turned on so that he could actually understand what was being said. The pub wasn’t too well known but it was still London so it was moderately busy but they were all regulars in the pub -  and not very rowdy ones at that.

“Hoping for a New Years kiss?” Sean asked from his stool on the other side of the bar.

“Hm?” Greg turned to look at him (maybe a little too fast going by the slight blur in his eyesight). Sean nodded at the crowds as a form of reply. Sean knew of his preferences, he’d been coming to the pub for drinks long enough that the two of them had shared a fair share of tipsy, bordering on drunk conversations, about

“You’re watching everyone quite intently, thought you might be scoping out your ‘prey’ for the night.” He was smiling easily as he explained, and Greg quickly found himself flashing one of his wide toothy grins in response. He found the alcohol had dulled his foul mood and replaced it with a slightly hazy, dreamy one.

“I _am_ a single man.” Greg gazed perhaps a little too intently into the young man’s eyes.

“Well I’m afraid that I am very much taken.” He laughed as he moved away to deal with someone else who was hovering around the bar.

“You aren’t ‘hitting’ on taken men are you, Detective Inspector?”

Greg almost jumped out of his skin like a teenager caught in a compromising position by his father at the sound of the perfectly pronounced, posh accent that only belonged to one person.

Mycroft Holmes, looking more than a little out of place in the pub in his three piece, Saville Row suit, sat down on the stool beside Greg, who did little more than stare bemusedly at the less annoying Holmes.

“I always took you as a man who would have a little more class than that.” Mycroft smiled tightly as he spoke.

“Um, Mr Holmes, what are you-” Greg stuttered, unintelligently. _Good move there, Greg, real smart, now you look like even more of a moron next to the genius. Fantastic, just when I was drunk enough to forget all of Sherlock’s jabs at my intelligence._ “Sorry, do you want me to buy you a drink? O-or something?” He tacked on the end a little dumbly, still taken aback by the posh man’s seemingly random appearance.

“A drink, Inspector?” Mycroft quirked an eyebrow ever so slightly.

“Well you’ve sat down now. Besides, I’m going to assume there’s a reason you’re here. Otherwise I’m completely lost for ideas.”

“You’re friend here needing something?” Sean’s Scottish accent was a stark contrast to Mycroft’s as he interrupted.

“Red wine, no preferences. That would be fine.” Conversation halted between them as they politely waited for Mycroft’s drink to be put down before talking again.

“So?” Greg asked as Mycroft sipped at his large glass of wine.

“I did try to contact you using your mobile phone, however you failed to answer me. Hence my appearance here. I simply wanted to assure you that I will deal with any repercussions that Sherlock’s ‘burglar’ incident could cause you. You will not get in trouble and your career nor your career progression will be at risk,” he paused to sip at his drink again, “Honestly I should have promised to protect you from having your reputation damaged years ago during our first meeting when you began consulting my brother.”

“Oh, um…” Greg struggled to string together the words to make a sentence, “Thanks, I guess. Yeah, thank you, Mr Holmes. And I’m sorry for not answering, I thought it would be work. There ain’t too many reasons that I’d get a call on New Years Eve, work being the main one.”

“Yes, I suppose that would be a logical conclusion.”

They paused their conversation again, leaving a slightly awkward silence hanging in the air as they both drained their respective drinks. Although, Greg couldn’t help but feel that Mycroft only seemed to be drinking to keep up with himself. He cleared his throat deciding that he should at least attempt to keep some semblance of conversation going. He at least wanted to hang around in the pub till midnight and it seemed that Mycroft would be too polite to say anything. Or awkward. That was always a possibility.

“So, um, do you really have nothing better to be doing at New Year? It’s half eleven and you’re sitting with an old copper you only met because of your brother.”

“I have no one else that I would spend the occasion with. Certainly not my brother.” Greg couldn’t hold back his laugh at that and he thought he may have even caught sight of the edge of Mycroft’s mouth twitch in amusement before he raised his hand to Sean to signal for another glass of wine.

“Can’t say I have anyone else to spend the night with either,” Greg mumbled out, freezing slightly as he realised the possible implications of exactly what he’d said.

_‘Someone to spend the night with’, that was a dumb way to phrase it, damn alcohol. Why did I think this would be a good idea?_

“Yes, I heard that you and your wife had split up.” Mycroft thankfully either didn’t catch what Greg had said or was saving him from any embarrassment by glazing over the word choice entirely, “I’m sorry. However, Sherlock was correct in his analysis. She is sleeping with another teacher at the school she teaches at. Even if he isn’t the most tactful. I believe he was a little…blunt at delivering that specific piece of information.”

“Pfft,” Greg scoffed drunkenly, swaying a little, “You got that right. Guess apologising for your brother must be a full time job.”

“Believe it or not that’s the second time I’ve been told that in recent months.” Mycroft really did smile this time.

“Heh, well I’d believe it.” Greg grinned, deciding quickly that he had probably had enough alcohol, having lost track of how many pints he’d had at this point, “Sorry, that might ‘ave sounded a bit rude, eh? I think I may be a little drunk.”

“Yes, I think you may. But then, I think I may too. As much as I loathe to admit it, I am somewhat of a lightweight, myself. And I admit to having a glass or two of whiskey before coming to meet you tonight.”

“Well, this is it everyone, the countdown to midnight is beginning! In just under two minutes it’ll be the New Year!” The cheery presenter announced from the TV in the corner which caused a woop from one of the groups of people in the pub. The shift in the crowd was subtle as they moved into pairs, hooking arms around the waists of significant others while they continued to watch the screen with interest. Greg watched the crowd and couldn’t help the stab of dull pain that this would be yet another occasion he would have to get used to spending alone again.

“I rarely take much time away from my work, let alone at New Year. I don’t believe I’ve ever spent the occasion in a pub.”

“Well, prepare yourself for a load of kissing then.” Greg had once again already said the words before realising that may sound like an offer, or maybe more of a threat _. A threat of kisses against a Holmes, fantastic. You’re sure doing well tonight aren’t you?_ “I didn’t mean it like that, I mean – um,” The countdown from ten began on the screen and silenced his rather pitiful babbling.

“Ten,”

Well actually…

“Nine,”

Perhaps it was a threat that he could go through with…

“Eight,”

And are those light freckles across his skin? Well that is attractive, and those legs…

“Seven,”

Wait, no, what am I thinking?

“Six,”

I mean sure he’s good looking but…

“Five,”

He’s Sherlock’s brother for Pete’s sake…

“Four,”

Not to mention he’s probably so intelligent that I’m like a brainless bloody jellyfish in comparison!

“Three,”

Intelligence is kind of a turn on, mind…

“Two,”

And I’m never going to get another chance to attempt it…

“One!”

Ah, fuck it.

Without giving Mycroft any real form of warning Greg moved quickly, lightly grasping the side of the man’s face with both of his hands and pulling their faces closer until their lips connected.

\---

Mycroft with his alcohol slowed reactions and stunted observation skills hadn’t registered the way the Detective Inspector was moving towards him until their lips were already pressed together. He froze up automatically, his mind failing to register what the DI’s motivations were.

Why?

There was no reason for the Inspector to be ‘making a move’ on him like this. Even when factoring in the amount of alcohol that Greg had consumed it was still a highly improbable scenario, they barely really knew each other after all. They crossed paths occasionally crime scenes when Sherlock was working, made an effort to call the other whenever one of them feared for the health or safety of Sherlock, met in Greg’s office often in the earlier days of his association with Sherlock to discuss the drugs that had been found on him – thankfully those meetings had become far more infrequent since John Watson had appeared. It did of course mean that he saw the rather handsome DI less often but considering the man had been married and it would be illogical for Mycroft to pursue relationships with his position in the government anyway he had made an effort not to think _too_ often about the police officer and his silvery hair. Okay, so he did think about him quite regularly. But that’s because he was undoubtedly attractive. He on the other hand was nowhere close to Greg where looks were concerned. Which brought him back to the original issue.

_Why?_

The question burning in his mind unexpectedly melted though as Greg began to move his lips against Mycroft’s own and Mycroft, rather uncharacteristically, couldn’t stop himself from giving in and leaning further into Greg’s lips and responding enthusiastically, one hand grabbing at Greg’s work shirt and the other gripping the bar for support.

And he let his mind stop speeding through conclusions and silence itself. Just for now, while he could take advantage of the situation that was presented before him.

\---

Greg had closed his eyes as soon as he’d realised Mycroft had frozen, not wanting to see the rejection in his eyes - even if it was just a new years kiss it still wasn't particularly nice to be rejected, especially after his ex-wife's recent rejection and betrayal-, and as a result missed the way the Mycroft’s eyes flickered over his features, admiringly, and was shocked to then feel him reciprocate the kiss. Enthusiastically.

They let the kiss go on for as long as they could until Greg realised that he was actually still alive, the kiss not quite having knocked him dead, and as a result breathing was quite an advantage, a necessity in fact. He let go off Mycroft’s face as he moved back and away from him and allowing him personal space but Mycroft’s fingers stayed curled in his shirt, pulling him back in and bringing his other hand, which had been on the bar next to their empty glasses, to Greg’s face. The second kiss was shorter, sweeter, than the previous one and they were both less reluctant breaking it, although Mycroft didn’t take his hand away from Greg’s chest.

_Well. Mycroft is a bloody good kisser, god._

“Um, Happy Ney Year, Mycroft.” Greg cleared his throat slightly awkwardly.

“Erm,” Mycroft stuttered, and Greg knew from that that he really must be flustered – in all the time he’d known Mycroft the man had never been any less than perfect, “Yes. That was…something.”

“Don’t know about you but it’s the best New Years kiss I’ve ever had.” Greg smiled as he spoke, trying to ignore the heat of Mycroft’s hand on his chest – at least until he could figure out exactly what the hell that kiss meant.

 _No, kisses. Plural_ , his thoughts corrected the mistake. _He grabbed me back for another. Surely that means that this wasn’t just a midnight kiss for him. Right?_

“The feeling is mutual.” Mycroft half mumbled the words as he pointedly didn’t make eye contact, instead staring down at his own hand on Greg’s chest. Greg couldn’t help the wide grin that formed on his face, taking his words as a compliment to his kissing ability.

“Right then.” Greg said, mainly because he felt he had to say _something_. An awkward silence fell over the two of them despite the noise elsewhere in the pub.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the night?” Mycroft asked suddenly and quite hurriedly, his fingers beginning to rub circles against Greg’s chest.

_Christ, does he expect me to answer with a clear head after this much alcohol while he’s doing that? God, that’s distracting._

“None at all,” He forced himself to answer, “You?”

“I think I may now.” Mycroft looked Greg in the eye at last, a very real, in no way restricted smile, decorated his face. Greg’s grin got wider and he pulled his wallet out of his pocket, dropping a few notes onto the bar. He caught Sean standing not too far away beside the man he knew to be Sean’s fiancé.

“Should I call one of my cars? If you’d like- I mean, do you want-?” Greg’s attention was brought back to Mycroft who was still smiling happily.

“Hell yes do I want.” Greg him off, and he could see in Mycroft’s eyes that he was happy with that answer.

“I’ll just make the call, I’ll be back in a moment,” He took a few more seconds before bringing himself to take his hand away from Greg’s shirt and standing up.

“Is that a promise, Mr Holmes?” Greg couldn’t stop himself from allowing the slightly flirtatious tone into his words.

“Of course. And I’m not the kind of man who breaks a promise, Detective Inspector Lestrade.” Greg was a little taken aback by how easily the man countered and mirrored his flirting, this side of him being very different to the man he had been earlier in the night. And honestly, Greg had to admit that he kind of liked it. Mycroft walked out of the pub without sparing a glance behind him, although coppers instinct told Greg that he was trying very hard not to and that he didn’t want to leave.

“See you got your new years kiss, and your mood’s improved too.” Sean appeared at his side, “I like him, seems nice.”

“Oi,” Greg teased, still unable to stop smiling like an idiot, “I think you’ll find that you’re very much taken. He’s mine.” And with that Greg got up and strode towards the exit in pursuit of Mycroft Holmes.

“Happy Hogmanay, mate.” The scot called after him, the smile audible in his voice.

\---

Mycroft had found it hard to actually walk away from the attractive DI and was almost thankful for the cold winter air outside to cool the red flush on his skin.

_This can’t possibly be the most intelligent choice. I cannot be seen to care for someone, caring is not an advantage. Surely it can’t be? I should back out now – I need to. To run before he follows, it would be better that way. But… I’m the one who suggested this continue further into the night (well, early hours of the morning now, to be specific). Perhaps just for one night I can just accept this. Accept this one, good thing. One night…or maybe a little longer. If Greg allows it…_

Mycroft turned at the sound of footsteps and the pub door opening to see Greg step out, that beautiful, bright smile still on his face.

_Yes, maybe a little longer than one night._

“Ready?” Mycroft asked with a renewed enthusiasm for the night ahead.

“Yeah- Actually, just one thing,” Greg paused and watched with interest as he twisted the gold band off of his ring finger and tossed it with a strong throw a few metres down the pavement. He held out his now naked hand for a moment, seemingly inspecting the new look of it, before reaching out and grasping one of Mycroft’s hands just as a black car with tinted windows pulled up beside them, “Okay, come on. Let’s go.”

He tugged open the back door and pulled Mycroft into the back seat, who, upon seeing the look in Lestrade’s very dark eyes, had a feeling he would be glad of the tinted window and partition and soundproofing between the backseat and his driver.

\---

Warmth. That was the first thing Greg was aware of when he woke up. Warmth and the weight of another body that was half draped over his chest, a leg hooked over his own. He was thankful that he still remembered everything – everything – that had happened between them the previous night. And that he didn’t regret a thing. Mycroft was still sound asleep on his chest, quiet, snuffly snores that could barely be described as snoring coming from him. Greg smiled fondly down at him, wrapping one of his arms tightly around his waist. Completely relaxed, Greg let his head fall back onto the pillow so that he was just staring up at the ceiling of the still quite dark room. Part of him wanted nothing more than to drift back to sleep, and it would be easy with Mycroft's presence – Greg had no doubt about that, but a large part of him wanted to just lay awake and actually take in what was happening as well. Something good was happening to him. Really good. If Mycroft allowed it then Greg doubted that he would ever leave. (Of course he knew better than to get all attached and start deciding anything important after just one night, there was no telling that this would mean anything in a few hours’ time, which was all the more reason to stay awake and savour it.) Mycroft moved in his sleep slightly, curling impossibly closer into Greg’s side. Reflexively he smiled at the unconscious action.

Nah, he’d be fine going back to sleep. There would be plenty of other mornings like this, he was sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> There we have it, my first Sherlock fanfic - actually first fanfic on AO3, full stop. For anyone curious the name of the pub, Sleekit Tod, comes from the scots name for the book Fantastic Mr Fox by Roald Dahl, The Sleekit Mr Tod. Another bit of scots for those that don't know, Sean shouts 'Happy Hogmanay' which is just the Scottish word for new years - just in case that confused anyone. Also a note that the jab at scots drinking is all in good faith before anyone gets offended, I am a Scot myself. Doesn't seem to help me much in writing a Scottish accent but ah well. I guess that this could be extended further and made into a full fanfiction with a plot but I'll leave that up to you guys. Thank you for reading and kudos/comments appreciated. - Lyss


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